


The First Story

by aspentree11



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, OC, Rhysand - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:07:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspentree11/pseuds/aspentree11
Summary: "I have given you your freedom, Selene, but mark my words - if you betray me, I will kill every man it takes to bring you back." We know the story of Rhysand but what about his mother? What about his father? What about when they were young? What if there was more to them than what meets the eye?*first posted on fanfiction





	1. The First Chapter

She had to get back before dinner. She had to. Her eyes went to the horizon, watching as the sun was nearly close to leaving. She hurried anxiously, carrying the basket of berries and hoping, praying to the cauldron, that she would not run into anyone. For some odd reason, she woke up with a feeling. She couldn’t quite figure out what the feeling was – terror? Anxiety? Paranoia? It’s just because of your period, she had told herself. But she had an inkling that deep down, that her period wasn’t the reason. There was something else buried inside her, warning her. She had tried staying in the cottage and begged one of her sisters, Aemilia, to do her outdoorsy chores but of course, Aemilia was no help. So instead of making a fuss, she took the basket and went out into the forest to fulfill her ridiculous duties and hoped that she would make it back before sundown.  
The feeling had almost gone away when she reached the core of her village. People were out and about – selling merchandise, talking around bon fires. She ducked her head nervously as village leaders passed by. Her eyes looked at the ground as they strolled past, rambling about something unimportant. The village leaders were far from protective, they were cruel. It only took one second of eye contact for them to find a reason to kill her. Thankfully, the village leaders relatively liked her family. Her dad was the best and most popular blacksmith in the village, and had gotten her out of trouble numerous times. But she had her own secrets to hide.  
“Selene.” She froze. She was almost to her cottage when the voice, that terrifying voice, interrupted her. Oh Cauldron. No.  
But she turned around with the best smile she could muster and looked at the young man behind her, “Oh, hello, Hunter.” He stopped in front of her, flashing her a cocky smile. He was far from beautiful, as he was incredible skinny and had disgustingly oily hair. His eyes were small and beady and yet, he was highly convinced that he was the best man in the village.  
When he walked closer to her, she winced at his filthy breath.  
“How are you today, Selene?” His eyes didn’t find hers, though. Instead, his eyes scanned her body generously, looking at everything from her curves to her bright mouth. She wasn’t ignorant enough to believe that she wasn’t beautiful – she knew she was gorgeous. Her white-blonde hair attractive most men’s eyes, while most girls in the village had dusty brown hair. Her eyes, a bright blue, were unusual in her area. And while she was used to telling off boys to stop looking at her, she couldn’t say a word against Hunter.  
“Good,” she said shortly, uninterested. “And you?” His face crinkled when he smiled.  
“Better that you’re here,” he said, and his eyes flickered around her shoulder. “Ah, you still have those wings, don’t you?” She took a cautious step back, forcing a protective smile.  
“Oh, yes, those,” she said tightly. “How is your father doing?” His face shifted and he rolled his eyes.  
“Being chief leader of course. Did you know the High Lord of the Night Court was coming at dawn? He’s probably going to award my father with gold for his accomplishments. As if he needs any more.” While the rest of us starve.  
“Well, isn’t that great! Well, I’m sorry, Hunter. But I have to go.” She took a sharp turn away from him and tried taking a large stride towards her cottage but then his calloused, dirt-tinted hands pulled her by the shoulder. She sucked in a breath and swerved towards him. She scrunched her body together as if to protect her valuable wings.  
“Yes?” She said, but this time coolly. His eyes flashed at her with a hint of impatience, but his smile remained.  
“Where are you going?” He said, almost tauntingly. “I’m the future leader of this village, you know. Why leave so soon? Stay and have fun at the bonfire with us.” She looked at the large fire where all the men, men who had spent their entire day training, had stayed. She would’ve had some respect for them if they didn’t have the belief that they were gods. Most of them were foot soldiers and wouldn’t make it anywhere but bottom rank, but they still held a sense of unearned glory that angered her.  
“I have to get back to my father. He-”  
“Oh, yes, your father,” Hunter said, snarling now. “Did he ever reply to my offer by the way?” She couldn’t help but scuff.  
“Your offer?” She asked. His lips pursed, but there was a hint of amusement on his face.  
“I offered him a proposal,” he said. Her eyes squinted at him coolly.  
“A proposal? Of marriage?”  
“Well, yes, of course. You’re the most beautiful girl in the village and I, as you know, will be the leader of this village once my father passes.” Which will probably be soon as you’ll probably be the one to kill him. “And I need a wife.”  
“I haven’t bled yet.” It was a lie, of course. This was her second month she had bled and nobody, not even her mother, knew about it. It was too dangerous to risk, as most girls had their wings taken off as soon as she had her first bleeding. Thankfully, she had a plan to leave the village soon enough. All she had to do was bid her time until she could get the gold and then disappear forever.  
“But you will soon, yes?” She shivered as he put his firm hand on her thin hips. She pursed her lips angrily.  
“In all due respect, I can’t control when and when not my body decides to turn into a woman,” she said back, her voice sharper. “Now, if you don’t mind-”  
“Oh, I certainly mind.” The hand on her hip tightened, pulling her closer with a yank. She grunted.  
“You’re hurting me!” She objected, her voice loud. But he leaned close to her, his eyes empty of emotion. Cold, cold like he had never felt anything at all.  
“I’m still talking to you,” he growled. Without even thinking about it, before it even registered in her mind, she pulled the basket of berries and swung it at his head. It collided with him and despite it not being heavy enough to cause any real damage, he staggered back. She took a step back as well, heaving as she digested the horror in front of her. Did she really just do that? Did she really just through a basket at the chief’s son’s head? As Hunter gripped his forehead, she swerved around and took two long strides before two hands caught her.  
“Let go of me!” She shouted, yelling at the two unfamiliar men as they dragged her back to face Hunter. Rubbing his forehead, Hunter strutted towards her angrily, his teeth barred.  
“How dare you, you peasant bitch!” His hand went towards her as she squirmed and ripped the worn dress. It only took one grip to rip it down the middle. She sucked in her breath.  
“It was an accident,” she said, her voice firm. “Let me go-” But then Hunter ripped off her dress fully, scratching her as she did so. The people around her began to stop and stare. Some snickered as they watched  
“How dare you touch me!” He roared. Behind them, Selene noticed how Hunter’s father glanced towards them. His eyes weren’t cold like Hunter’s, but yet held a type of anger that she had never felt. A heartless anger. Her eyes found his, not pleadingly but pointedly. He looked away immediately, not a single care in his eyes as he left his tent.  
“It was a misunderstanding, Hunter,” she said, her voice nicer now. “I’ve had a long day. I apologize. Now, let me go.” But then his hands grabbed her with his dirty nails, pulling her away from the beefy hands holding onto her shoulders. She screeched as he pulled her close. His eyes scanned her more disgustingly now, mostly at her panties. She watched as he unbuckled his own belt. Heat, a warningly heat, went through her body as she now understood the consequences. She should have foresaw this – she should’ve just walked away.  
“Hunter,” she said slowly, trying to hide the fear in her voice, “My father is the blacksmith. Would you really-do you really want to humiliate him this way?” But Hunter didn’t care. Her heart beating fast and her breathing now suffocating her as she couldn’t calm down, tried ripping away from Hunter but the two men behind her were blocking her from moving.  
“No-” He reached for her. She squirmed.  
“My father will-” And then he took her panties off and he laughed. He looked at the underwear, now smeared with blood. She inhaled raggedly, all the hope in her body vanishing. She felt empty, weightless. He was going to take everything, she thought. Not just her virginity, she could live with being ostracized as she was planning to leave anyways, but she couldn’t live without her wings.  
“This is perfect,” he said, his voice filled with playful cruelty. She felt the tears fill her eyes. She hadn’t cried in years.  
“I didn’t know-”  
“You didn’t know that you had bled?” He finished. A tear was falling down her cheek.  
“No,” she lied, her voice tight, “I didn’t.” But then his eyes glittered at her, jumping in amusement. Without even turning his attention to one of his men, he spoke.  
“Go tie her to the wooden post. Take off her wings,” he demanded. Without a hesitation, she screamed. At the top of her lungs, her screams rang the core of the village. She kicked and hit the men that were holding her as they carried her thin body to the post. Behind her, somewhere, from behind the tents on the other side, she heard a man, whose voice was dry and irritable, speak. For some reason, she heard it over the others. It was strong, unique.  
“And yet you claim that your villagers aren’t savages, Peleg.” She didn’t know whose voice it was, nor cares, but it rang over the others.  
“They-they aren’t, my lord.” A second man – Petyr, replied. “My villagers are the best men in Prythian.”  
“Are you claiming your men are superior over me?” Selene stopped paying attention to the voice as soon as she saw Hunter pull out his sword. Her chest rose up and down rapidly. A crowd had begun to form around them, watching like it was a play.  
“Please,” she said, tears falling down her face fast. “We’re friends, Hunter. Remember? We played together as children.” But Hunter was too amused to hear her words.  
“You’re nothing but a dirty whore,” Hunter spat. She tried making her words, her pleading words, leave her lips. But then she felt her chin rise, anger filling her body again. A whore? Simply because she was repulsed by his proposal?  
“I’d rather be a whore than be with you,” she said, spitting at him square in the face. His gasped as he wiped his face hurriedly, and she noticed how embarrassment filled his cheeks. Despite the situation, she felt a hint of victory.  
“You’ll pay for that,” he said, his lips curled angrily. But then a voice rang in her ears again – the deep, husky voice that interrupted the rest.  
“What do you expect out of me? Gold? Not that I’m not grateful that your men supply my real warriors as target practice, but you are just lucky that I have the compassion to even stand in your filthy village,” the voice said, making Hunter pause. “And where is this brave son of yours, Pimberton? I was under the impression that he cared to be your successor?”  
“Oh, he’s right over-”  
“Let’s get this over with fast,” Hunter snarled. He rose his sword in the air as his men angled her body towards him. Her wings, which she thought for so many years would be protected, were now in the open. He was going to rip them off, cripple her.  
“NO!” She screamed, just as the sword went down. She watched as the sword wooshed down, and she cried as he thrashed it at her, but just as the sword met her wings, red filled her vision. The bounds holding her to the post snapped. She shifted away, shielding her eyes as she felt her body soak in liquid. Slowly, shaking, she uncovered her eyes and looked in front of her. Her mouth gaped.  
All she saw was red. She looked up, noticing the red rain still pouring down on her, covering her body from head to toe. She rose her fingers, smearing the substance from her cheek and then putting it to her nose directly. She winced as she inhaled. Blood.  
Hunter and his gang were no longer in front of her and it took her about three seconds, as she noticed the torn clothes on the ground, to realize that the blood that soaked her – the blood that covered her body so much that she couldn’t see her own skin, was theirs. They had exploded. Turned into bloody rain. But how?  
And then she heard the scream. She looked up, seeing Petyr only about twenty feet from her. His hand was to his lips but then her eyes shifted to the figure beside him. He was tall – taller than any man she had ever met. His skin was tan like a high ranked Illyrian and his dark brown hair tickled his brow swiftly. His eyes, the color of choal but yet still beautiful, stared at her. He was quiet for a moment, his eyes connected with hers, and she knew by the gleam in his eyes that he had saved her. She had to admit, though she wasn’t usually swayed by beauty, he was attractive. And his clothes, as if his natural looks didn’t reveal his identity already, were made of fine, pure-black material that made her gape. She knew who he was.  
This wasn’t the first time she had ever seen him. She had seen him once before, when she was just a child and he was probably her age. He looked no different, either because he was just as powerful as he was years before or because he was immortal.  
“Why, Percival, you know this is no way to treat a lady,” he purred at Petyr, smirking. She blinked, his words waking her up from the nightmare. Petyr shuddered, stumbling backwards and putting his hands in the air cowardly.  
“I knew nothing of this, my lord,” Petyr lied, his voice shaking, “Please, don’t-” But then the High Lord of the Night Court started towards her. He walked with a swagger and a strut that even Hunter couldn’t pull off. She shrunk back against the post, now very aware how close to death she truly was. For the first time in years, she wished that she was ordinary.  
The High Lord stopped only about half of a foot away from her, bending his knees a little bit just to be at level with her. There was a genuine smile on his face – too genuine. So genuine that it almost looked predatory. His dark eyes twinkled at her and she could see a layer of greed that reflected back at her.  
“And what’s your name, beautiful?” He said softly, his voice caressing as if a lover. A slight shiver ran down her spine but thankfully when she responded her fear didn’t show.  
“Selene.” His eyes danced around her face, as if trying to absorb her. Unlike the rest of the men here, he didn’t look at her sexually. But as if she was something interesting, maybe even humorous. She swallowed.  
“Selene,” he repeated, his voice gentle, “And what do you do here, Selene?” Her fingers were shaking.  
“I-I am the daughter of the village’s black smith, my lord,” her voice shook. He nodded understandably.  
“And why, my dear Selene, did those wretched peasants tie you to a post?” Peasants. She almost laughed at the word. They weren’t peasants to them – they were the leaders of the village, people who held local power. People who abused their power and slaughtered children for sport. But she guessed compared to him that they were nothing more than spit on the ground.  
“My wings,” she said quietly, practically a whisper, “they were going to cut off my wings because I’m a girl.” Her eyes fell to the ground, sure at this point that he was mocking her. That he would take her wings just for the fun of it – just to amuse himself, and then murder her after. But then she heard him cluck his tongue disapprovingly.  
“Now, that’s not very fair is it, Selene?” He asked. She shook her head slowly.  
“Please,” she said, nearly begging, “I just want my wings. I don’t do anything bad here, I’m just the blacksmith’s daughter. Please don’t-”  
“Do you know who I am, Selene?”  
“The High Lord of the Night Court,” she choked, a drip of Hunter’s blood falling into her mouth. His terrifying yet genuine smile lengthened, nodding.  
“Exactly, I am the High Lord of the Night Court. Now, I agree with you, Selene. I think cutting off your wings would be rather barbaric, don’t you think?”  
“Yes.”  
“And so, do you also agree that I should burn down this entire damn village for their shameful acts?” The sentence was as cold as ice. It was clearly rhetorical as he looked back at Petyr. Petyr’s entire face turned milky white. He opened his mouth quickly, but nothing came out. The High Lord of the Night Court had must’ve silenced him with his magic as Petyr gripped his throat anxiously, begging to speak.  
“No,” Selene said quickly, her eyes wide with horror and holding out her palm innocently, “Please, my family lives here. My father, my mother, my sisters. They didn’t do anything wrong, there are many good people in this village! Please, spare me. Spare us.” The High Lord looked back at her, his eyes filled with delight.  
“Are you sure? It would only take half a thought-” His voice was so casual, so calm, that it made bile rise to her throat.  
“Yes!” She argued, and then sucked in her breath as she noticed she interrupted him. “I’m sorry for interrupting, my lord. I just – I’m sure.” He tilted his head, nodding.  
“Very well. As you wish, my beautiful Selene. Now, there is a nasty amount of blood on you,” he said, looking at her body now. She looked down, realizing how horrifically nude she was. And in front of the most powerful man in the land too, maybe even the world. Embarrassment filled her face as his eyes ran up and down her body. There wasn’t much to see as blood nearly covered all of it, but his eyes were lingering at every detail that he could depict. She looked around her desperately, watching as every person in the village stared at her in terror.  
“It’s alright,” she said, giving a nervous laugh. “It’s just blood.” His eyebrows furrowed down and he shook his head.  
“No, it is not okay, beautiful. Let’s get you a nice, warm bath and clean you up,” he said. But when he heard the utter silence that followed his words, he turned around with a snarl and stared at Petyr with a look worse than death. “Didn’t you hear me, Philander? This poor girl needs a bath. Now.” 

~*~ discidium ~*~  
reviews?


	2. The Second Chapter

Hunter's blood was still dripping down her back. After the High Lord of the Night Court demanded Petyr to give her a bath, two of the local women volunteered to help scrub her off. As she was led into Petyr's home, where the only traditional bath lied in the entire village, they immediately brought out sponges and began scraping off the blood without a single complaint. Both of the women, whom she knew vaguely, refused to meet eyes with her. They murmured to each other as they continued to wash her off, but Selene's hands were still shaking. What was going on? Why had the High Lord taken such a key interest in her?  
"She's just…" One of them muttered as she scrubbed her waist, clearly irritable but nearly out of earshot. "Because of her…" The other woman, who was scrubbing her legs nodded.  
"…murdered one of her own…all Petyr has done for them and yet…" The words kept getting shot back and forth until finally Selene yanked herself away and glowered at both of them. They reflected an angry snarl.  
"Get back over here, girl!" One of them barked. "You're lucky that you're even alive." Her fingers, sore from the continuous shaking, curled into tight fists.  
"What's going on?" She demanded. "Why did you bother volunteering if you are both so angry at me?" One of the women, who had lived a few cottages away from her, shot her a mirthless smirk.  
"You don't even know," the woman said, shaking her head. "So naive." Selene's eyes narrowed on her.  
"Do indulge," Selene said through her clenched teeth, her voice just as angry now. The woman got off her knees and stood up.  
"He's your-" But then a knock on the door interrupted her. Both of the women's faces filled with horror and Serene subtly inched away closer to the back wall.  
"Yes?" One of them said, her voice soft.  
"What's taking you so long?" It was Petyr. "The High Lord is growing restless. Finish scrubbing her fast and then put her in the tub." Serene looked down at herself. Not all of the blood had been washed away – there was a spot on her belly and her hair was yet to be touched by the two women. But for the most part, the blood was gone.  
"I guess this will have to do," the woman who had been speaking to her said grudgingly. At that moment, Serene didn't need instruction to get into the bath. Before the either for the woman could bark at her, she stepped into the room-temperature water awkwardly. She had never been in a bath, as her parents and every other family in the village didn't have enough money to have one. Instead, she was used to bathing in the river. But she sat down in it obediently as the women rushed out.  
She stared around the bathroom – at Petyr's bathroom. Once, Hunter had been in here. Not that she was sentimental about his death, but she felt like an invader. A fraud. She eyed the large, jagged mirror in front of her, followed by two wooden chairs that faced the mirror. The mirror was standing on a dresser that was piled with hand-made brushes and bottles of liquids that she didn't recognize. Was Hunter right? Was she supposed to be his future wife and live in this cottage for the rest of her life? No, she never would have agreed. But, as her eyes lingered in the bathroom, she couldn't help but feel envious. It was a life that she never had the opportunity to dream of.  
After a few minutes alone, she heard another knock at the door. She shifted in the bathtub awkwardly, unsure of what to do. Should she get up and open it? But she didn't see any towels around her and the ladies had taken her bloody clothes with them.  
"Er…yes?" She asked awkwardly. The door opened with the creak. And there he was again – barging into her life. The High Lord looked around the room with disgust and then back at the bathtub. She looked down at herself, unsure of why he was staring at the bathtub so intensely until he sneered.  
"Stupid cretins had one job," he growled and snapped his fingers. Within half a second, she felt a warmth hit around her. Warm water. He had warmed the water. While the warm water made her feel like she was dissolving into comfortable jello and she was tempted to let out a sound of relief, she refused to show any flicker of emotion. He closed the door slowly, locking it.  
She was utterly still as he walked further into the bathroom. He spun one of the wooden chairs backwards and sat down with his chin propped onto the back of the seat silently. His eyes stared down at her like a hawk, as if searching for prey. What was he analyzing? She didn't know. She was too afraid to ask. She was just a girl. But he was silent as he looked at her, marveled.  
"This doesn't make you feel uncomfortable?" He asked finally, his voice cut sharp. She swallowed.  
"What do you mean?" She let out. The corner of his mouth twitched up as if he was suppressing a smile.  
"Me watching you take a bath," he said. "I've been sitting here staring at you for five minutes. I was thinking you'd object by now." She shrugged, because truthfully she didn't mind. He was too far away to see anything intimate and the bath went up to her shoulders when she was sitting down. Not only that, but she wasn't lying when she told Hunter that she'd rather be a whore than lose her wings. If this is what she had to do for him, she would do it.  
"You saved my wings," she replied, her voice hollow. "I don't care what you do." He tilted his head at her, reflecting a small smile. Not the predatory smile he had given her earlier – a true smile. It looked unnatural against his dark, twisted eyes.  
"What about talk?" He suggested. She blinked at him, shock running through her so fast that she sat up like a lightning bolt. If anything, the words made her more anxious. This clearly wasn't what she predicted. Physical favors were straight forward, expectant, but this wasn't something she was prepared for.  
"Talk? I thought-" He interrupted her with a laugh.  
"If I wanted to have sex with you, I would have by now." Her eyes narrowed on him disapprovingly.  
"See this face, High Lord?" She asked, her hand circling around her head impatiently. "It used to be nice and friendly. Now after that cocky comment, it's cold and mean." He snorted.  
"Nice and friendly? You've been looking at me like I'm planning on roasting you and eating you for dinner," he told her. She was tempted to smile, maybe even laugh, until she realized who she was talking to and then became quiet again. She didn't know what to say to him, or even if she was allowed to speak. He was, compared to her, a god. She was merely an ant that was destined to be stepped on.  
His smile dropped too, as if he could feel the sudden shift that went through her.  
"Fine then," he said, defeated. "How about I ask the questions and you answer them? Is that easy enough?" She thought about it and then nodded slowly.  
"Ask away, my lord," she told him. He smirked.  
"Is this the first time I've met you?" He asked. She pulled her knees up to her chest as she sat farther up in the bathtub.  
"No," she admitted, "I met you once. When you first became High Lord. I was eight. You were doing your tour to introduce yourself to all the villages." His eyes jumped from humored to nostalgic, as if he was trying to remember the memory of coming down here. But she waved her hand at him.  
"Our village is nothing. Worthless," she agreed. "I don't expect you to remember." He didn't bother disagreeing with her. Not that she was surprised. It wasn't too long ago that he was threatening to burn the entire village to the ground. Her village was replaceable to say the least. But there was a shadow of resentment in his eyes, and yet she knew it wasn't towards her.  
"Do you like it here?" He preceded. She knew what she was supposed to say. Yes, I love it here. It would have saved her people from destruction, maybe the High Lord would even present them with gifts if she boasted about the village.  
"No," she said, remembering how the chief ignored her when she cried for mercy, "I hate the village. I was planning on leaving, actually." A spark filled his eyes. A victorious sparkle. Like he had just won a battle or conquered a nation. Like she was an entity that he would've fought to keep.  
"Because of your wings?" Suddenly, she felt very conscious of her wings. She had released them when she got into the bathtub, just so that she could relish the feeling of them still attached to her. But when he brought them up, she regretted it. She nodded, heat filling her face.  
"Because of my wings."  
"And are you educated?" She hesitated for a moment. Why was her education important? While it wasn't uncommon, literacy wasn't valued in the village. And she knew that in many other villages, girls were the last people who were educated. It was even punishable by death in some.  
"Yes, my father taught me," she said, almost defensively. "It's not against the rules here. Anybody can learn how to read in my village. There is no punishment." One of his eyebrows jerked upward.  
"But that doesn't mean your people care," he argued roughly. "It doesn't mean your superiors give credit to those who do. I've seen villages like these – where brawns is the only characteristic that matters. That education is nearly pitied. They're wrong." She didn't know what to say. So instead she sat their silently, sinking into the warm water again. There was silence, strained silence.  
"Are you scared?" Her eyes shot up towards him, holding his gaze intensely. She was scared of a lot of things, she admitted to herself. She was scared of her wings being ripped off, she was scared of her family punishing her for her actions, and she was scared that once the High Lord left that she would be tied to the post once again.  
"Of you?" She said bravely, scuffing. "No. I am not scared of you. Like you said, if you wanted to hurt me, you would have by now." She was half expecting anger to flash across his face, saying she had just insulted him. But he almost seemed thrilled, amused that she didn't have any fear towards him. And then he was smiling at her again, a challenging smile.  
"Don't you have any questions for me?" He asked, shaking his head humorously. "I keep asking you about yourself and you are yet to ask a single question about me. Don't you want to know something? Anything about your high lord?" Why am I here? Why did you save me? Why do you care? But then she said the first thing that came to mind.  
"What's your name?" There was silence for a moment. Almost immediately she felt a weight in her gut, as she realized that her question probably wasn't the best. He was looking for something simple, she had no right to go into his personal business. But then he cackled, laughing. His rings ran against the bathroom walls so powerfully that the bathroom began to shake. Her face flushed as she could only imagine what the villagers were thinking.  
"I apologize if-"  
"No. No," he said sharply, his laughs cutting off. "Don't ever apologize. It's humorous, really, that you don't even know my name." She shrugged pathetically.  
"Nobody in my village has ever spoken your name." She wasn't going to apologize for her village's ignorance though, for their inability to learn. They didn't have the time nor the energy to learn about the rest of the world. They could barely feed themselves already.  
"It's not unusual," he said, as if hearing her thoughts. "Most people outside of my court don't know my name. It has nothing to do with the quality of your village."  
"Tobias. My name is Tobias." And as she looked up at him, analyzing him again, she could see it. Lord Tobias. It sounded powerful, maybe one day even legendary. She could see the name feared.  
"It's nice to meet you, High Lord Tobias," she said, giving a friendly smile and handing out her hand. He leaned over and clamped it, shaking it stiffly with a smirk.  
"Just Tobias to you," he corrected. When the words, too friendly to be safe, were finally let out, her smile died.  
"Why are you here?" She blurted as she pulled her hand away hastily. There wasn't any hint of friendliness in her voice anymore. "You spared me because you felt like it, I get that. And you demanded a bath for me to be nice. But why are you here? Talking to me? Letting me call you by your first name?" He didn't even blink at her. But he looked at her longingly, like she was a doll that he was about to break. A sadness flickering in his eyes.  
"If I told you I was going to say something that would change your life forever, would you want to know now?" He asked. Her eyebrows furrowed down.  
"Of course," she said hurriedly, almost a bit snappily. "Of course I would want to know. Wouldn't you?" His eyes reflected an unreadable gleam. And then he brought his head off the back of his chair, shaking his head at her unbelievably. There was a ghost of smile on his lips, but it wasn't something to be admired.  
"You're too young," he whispered, laughing under his breath as if to mock her. "You're barely of age." His words felt like a slap on the face. As the words settled in, his tone ringing in her head, anxiety rose in her. Was this about her wings? She couldn't risk it, not now. Not when she had just witnessed a blade almost cut them off.  
She bolted to her feet in the tub, dauntlessly naked in front of him with no care at all. While her body was there for him to look at, his gaze stayed on her face as she stepped out of the bathtub and grew close to him, her wings flapping behind her. He didn't even twitch.  
"Tell me," she demanded, her lips curling. "Tell me what it is." His dark eyes turned cold.  
"This is the second time you've nearly killed yourself whilst being naked, beautiful Selene. Do you really have the audacity to think that surviving the first time was anything but luck?" She closed her lips tightly, trying to erase the cold expression off her face, but when she began to step back into the tub Tobias took hold of her fingers and pulled her back. While his eyes were still cold, there seemed to be a hint of admiration.  
"When I first saw you, Selene," he said slowly, pulling her even closer. She shivered when he said her name. "I thought I was dying. I thought I was on the battlefield and that I was trying to grasp for something, something in the deepest of my imagination, to keep me alive. That you were my shining angel to tell me to keep fighting." She opened her mouth but then nothing came out. He was looking at her desperately, trying to grasp something that he would never be able to get physically, something that he needed. Something that he couldn't live without.  
"I know I'm pretty," she snapped, coolness running on her tongue, "That's all it is, my lord. You're entranced by my beauty. But I'm an average villager. I'm not your an-" But he got up so fast that she barely caught it. He knocked over the chair so roughly that it snapped in two and caressed her face in his hands. For a moment, she thought he was tearing up.  
"You want me to say it, beautiful Selene?" He asked, his voice sharp again. "You want me to tell you the truth?" She couldn't even speak this time. The High Lord's hands were on her, the most powerful man she had ever met, and she didn't know if she should be afraid or flattered. His eyes though, his dark eyes, were spirited.  
"You're my mate, beautiful Selene," He said, touching her forehead with his. "Say something, beautiful darling." She opened her mouth, letting out an unattractive choking sound and then flushed with redness.  
"That-mates…they don't," she said, swallowing. "High Lord-"  
"Tobias."  
"Tobias. Tobias, mates don't exist," she said slowly, pulling her head away. His hands dropped back to her fingers, intertwining her fingers with his tightly. She flashed him a sympathetic smile. "That's a fable. That bond doesn't really exist. It's something parents tell little girls to humor them. It's not a real thing." His lips, which were slightly parted, turned into a tight line. Blame, anger, filled his face. A part of her kept screaming at her to run, yell, hide away, but she couldn't leave him.  
"Is that what your baffling chief told you?" He asked, one eyebrow perked up. She sighed.  
"Have you ever met someone else who has found their mate? No, exa-"  
"Yes," he said, blinking rapidly. "Many, actually. Half of my council has a mate. The stronger the fae, the more likely they are to find one." She wanted to refute but when she looked at him, at the strongest fae she had ever met, how could she argue? Nobody in her village was as powerful as him. Nobody had options here.  
"Let me take you to my home," he said, his voice soft as his lips reached her ear. "Let me prove it to you." Her gaze clung to his, trying to find the lie. Surely he knew that even if the mate bond was a real thing, that she, a mere peasant, couldn't be his equal. Not ever.  
"It's either stay here and accept the wrath that your pathetic, medieval village will give to you after this charade," he said, his voice silky, "or come with me. And we can find out the truth together."  
~*~ discidium ~*~  
She didn't wave goodbye to her family when Tobias escorted her out. She felt him linger close to her, watching the villagers' faces as they walked away together. Behind them, there were three or four guards with their daggers already out, as if her village would ever fight to keep her. Not even her parents objected as she walked past them.  
"They'll get rewarded for keeping you for the last eighteen years," she heard Tobias tell her, only for her ears to hear. She glanced up at him, finding that his eyes were just as angry as hers despite the generous comment.  
"Don't bother," she told him. "The only people I care about here are the children. The girls, especially. If you want to be merciful, reward them. Not my family." And he nodded at her curtly, his eyes searching from where her pain truly began. But he would never find it.  
She didn't turn around as she walked farther and farther away from the village. Instead, she kept her eyes at a distant place – the nearest village which was miles away. Tobias, though, seemed rather content with the walk. He was silent, chillingly silent. Not even his guards spoke to each other throughout their journey, with their eyes centered on her every moment. Every time she skipped a step their entire bodies would shift towards her, like she was more important than the High Lord himself. The High Lord, alike to them, glanced at her often, but not like he was tempted to make a conversation. He was analyzing her, analyzing every movement she made. Her body language, her reactions. It wasn't until she could smell the smoke did he finally speak.  
"There will be a high priestess in the village," he told her, his voice absent of any sort of emotion. "She will secure our bond." The entrance to the village was in sight now, people hovering around the entrance frantically. She took a ragged breath, feeling the shakiness in her body once again. Fear began to stir in her and she felt her stomach churn.  
"Our bond? Marriage bond?" She managed to let out, only when they became close to the entrance of the village. He nodded sharply.  
"Yes. This is the closest village that is truly within the Court of Night's territory. In my terrain, under my rule. Your village is still technically my land, but I let your village, along with many others, lead themselves as they are too far away for me to keep track of regularly. But this one, this village, follows my rules exactly so it will be fully recognized by other courts. Does that make sense?" He asked. She nodded slowly.  
"So," she said, tucking a white-blonde hair behind her ear, "this will be legitimized? If this bond is real, I will be your wife before the night's end?" To her surprise, a smile appeared on his face, warming his naturally cold expression.  
"Yes," he said, only about ten feet away from the entrance. She took a deep breath, trying to release all the nerves inside her, but it was useless. She was absolutely terrified of what was going to happen, what the high lord would end up doing to her when he realized that it was a huge mistake. But he, for the first time since the long walk, wrapped his arm around hers. She looked up, realizing how intimate it must be for him to even touch her in public since he was so cold naturally. He looked at her with a reassuring gleam in his eyes.  
"You will be a great Lady," he told her, as if that was the biggest worry in her mind. But she nodded, pretending that that was her worry. He began walking to the entrance and to her greatest surprise, people fell to their knees. Even the guards fell down to the ground, bowing. There was a smug look on the High Lord's face as he walked into the village, watching as people stopped what they were doing and fell to the ground.  
"They're bowing," Selene whispered aloud. He gave her a cocky grin.  
"Yes, some villages know how to respect their high lord," he said passive aggressively. She rolled her eyes. And as she watched as people bowed, they didn't even flicker when she walked past. It was like they weren't even surprised.  
"Did you warn them?" She asked him, her voice a whisper as she leaned next to him. He shook his head.  
"Of course not. Why would I waste my time sending a rider when I needed to get here as soon as possible? Unlike you, they don't doubt me. They know who you are," he said back. She felt her cheeks flush.  
"I don't doubt you," she said, "It's just…everyone makes mistakes." He huffed at that, giving her a mocking smile now.  
"Not me," he told her, and she knew he wasn't joking. Clearly, his arrogance was a part of his personality. "I am never wrong, my beautiful Selene." He didn't stop until he hit the biggest hut of all. There was silence, utter silence. And at that moment she knew it was her turn to speak.  
"Promise me one thing," she said, desperation leaking in her voice. He glanced at the hut warily and then back at her.  
"Okay," he agreed, far easier than she had expected.  
"When she tells you that I'm not your mate, that I was right, don't just leave me back in my village. Help me," she said, her eyes falling to the ground. "Leave me here if you have to, but they'll kill me in my village if I go back." She expected him to argue, for anger to fill his face, but his face was unreadable.  
"If I promise and consider the possibility, will you consider the possibility that you are wrong?" He replied, his voice just as desperate as hers.  
"A deal is a deal," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. He opened his mouth but just as he was about to speak, the curtains that closed the entry way to the hut opened with a swish. And she knew, without a doubt, that the figure was the high priestess.  
The high priestess was extremely beautiful. Her facial features, dark but extraordinary, made Selene breathless. Her long hair was braided and she looked like she was from a different area – maybe the court of summer? Selene had obviously never been there but she has heard the stories of what they look like. Her skin was so dark that it was evident that the high priestess was a different race, a different race that Selene has never seen. The high priestess' eyes narrowed on Selene.  
"She is taller than I had dreamed. Younger," the high priestess said, her voice leaking with disapproval. Selene reflected the same look, but didn't dare speak. She looked up at the high lord and she was surprised to see that he actually found it funny.  
"Yvonne, meet Selene," he said, motioning to her happily. Yvonne rolled her eyes and then opened the curtain wider.  
"As if I haven't seen her before," Yvonne scuffed, looking at her. But then she smiled at her, a wicked smile. "Welcome to the court of dreams, girl." A growl escaped Tobias's mouth.  
"She is your Lady," he said, following Yvonne into the hut and pulling Selene with him.  
"Not yet," Yvonne said dauntlessly, leading them in. Selene coughed as she walked into the hut – she was hit with the smell of many herbs at once. She was used to the smell of herbs, as she had used them to delay her period for years. But these were stronger, more powerful. She walked with Tobias willingly to a rich, golden altar. She stopped beside him, facing the high priestess.  
"She doesn't believe you, I can feel it," Yvonne said, her voice leaking with disgust. Tobias's mouth pressed into a tight line.  
"She's young, like you said," Tobias countered, his voice surprisingly protective. "You don't know what-"  
"Oh, I do." Selene tried not to gape when the high priestess interrupted him. Tobias didn't look irritated in the least, and she could feel how much respect he truly had for his high priestess. Selene turned away quickly, feeling the high priestess' stare. She was testing her in her own odd way, as if waiting for her to lash out. But Selene didn't even move.  
"I'm assuming you want me to prove it to her first, my lord?" Yvonne asked. He nodded curtly.  
"She's feisty," he told her, as if Selene wasn't right next to him, "I think she'd be a bit mad if I married her without her approval first." Dry humor. She didn't have the right to be furious, if anything. Mate or not, he could demand her to do it and grudgingly, she would have to without a single complaint.  
"Give me your hands then," Yvonne demanded. Selene shyly gave out her hand and Yvonne, with an annoyed sigh, yanked it closer between the two. Tobias let out his own and Selene was surprised to see that she hadn't noticed the tattoos that were painted on his skin. It was an interesting design – ancient swirls and symbols she couldn't read ran up from his palm to his elbow. She forced her gaze to Yvonne, whose eyes were flashing between the two of them.  
"Ready?" She asked, to Selene specifically. Taking a deep breath, Selene nodded. Yvonne then grabbed her hand again, laying it on top of Tobias's. His hands were rough.  
"Destiny awaits you," Yvonne said, before muttering a long string of words in a language that Selene didn't recongize. There was a moment of stillness, of anxiety, but then she was no longer in the hut. She was in a bedroom, painted blue with a bed larger than her own room. A boy, young, sat on it restlessly, arguing with his father. And then a flash occurred, she was watching a teenager. He was fighting in an underground ring, his eyes filled with such undying anger that she was worried it would consume him. And then she saw a young man, probably not too much older, holding his dead father, soaked in dark red blood. There were tears in his eyes. And then she saw a girl, bound to the post like a slaughtered animal, crying for someone to save her. Begging, screaming so loud that the birds fled from the trees in fear, for someone to spare her, even if it meant ending her life.  
And then she was in the room again, panting. Shaking. She looked down, suddenly realizing that she was on the floor, gripping her legs so tightly that blood was spilling. Her eyes, slowly, rose.  
The High Lord was looking down at her, shaking as well. There was an anger in his eyes – an unforgivable anger. A ruthless anger. A murderous anger. His head whipped towards Yvonne.  
"I'll kill them," he seethed, "for what they did to her. I'll murder them with each and every-" But then Yvonne put her hand on him.  
"This, taking her away from them, making her your destiny, is the worst thing that you could've done for them," Yvonne said, her voice surprisingly calming. "They will live in fear for the rest of their lives." The High Lord's shaking went down and Selene felt herself getting on her feet. It occurred to her, as she saw the lively fire in his eyes, that he must've seen her life as well. They were, truly, connected. She opened her mouth, about to say the words she thought she would never admit, until he spoke before her.  
"You're too young," he said, his voice filled with pain. "I can't take your innocence from you, my beautiful Selene. I can't take you to my court, not yet." Selene stepped towards him, protesting.  
"I believe you," she said, swallowing her pride. "I believe you, Tobias-"  
"You're barely of age," he said over her words, a light growl proceeding it. "Before I put you on a throne, I need to know that I won't ruin you. That you are strong enough-"  
"She is strong enough," Yvonne interrupted, her sharp voice silencing him. "She almost died for her wings. She abandoned the only home she has ever had in the possibility of a new life. She is not a child. She has a very old soul, my lord. A soul that is needed if you want a strong rule." Tobias's eyes lingered on Yvonne for just a moment before finding Selene's gaze. There were so many questions on his face, so many vulnerabilities. Selene turned towards Yvonne, her body straightening as she did so.  
"Marry us," she demanded. Yvonne smiled at her.  
"Very well, my lady."


End file.
